


Truce? Gladly.

by greatbriton



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatbriton/pseuds/greatbriton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of my Dorian/Blackwall drabbles and shorts on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Dorian pressed down as hard as he could, almost afraid he was about to hear bones give, yet still blood seeped between his fingers and covered the golden rings that adorned them. He cursed at the wound in Blackwall’s chest and pressed still harder.

Blackwall coughed underneath him which only shook his body and pushed more blood passed Dorian’s hands.

Dorian gasped desperately and scrambled to get cloth to help clog the deep gash.

“You fool, stop moving,” he said breathlessly. He wanted to yell and clobber Blackwall over the head to let him know that he didnt need to jump in front of axes for him. But it would serve no helpful purpose, Blackwall wouldn’t listen anyway.

Blackwall opened his eyes and laughed weakly as if he heard Dorian’s thoughts. He wrapped his sweaty hands around one of Dorian’s blood slick one’s, his grip vice tight.

“You’re alright?” Blackwall asked. A weak smile at the faint nod Dorian gave him after a frustrated curse.

“I should let you bleed out for what you put me through.”

Blackwall shook his head and finally looked away from Dorian, gulping. “You won’t though.”

Dorian watched as Blackwall fought to stay conscious, his hands pressed against the wound and his voice going hoarse yelling for Vivienne. The injury was well beyond his abilities.

No. No, I won’t, he thought.


	2. 2

Blackwall poured the water from the pitcher to the glass, his eyes catching the sight of Dorian laid out across his bed. He was on his stomach, exhausted and bare. The smooth lines of his tan skin shone warmly from sweat in the firelight.

Dorian’s eyes were closed and a contented relaxed expression was on his face. A rare moment indeed, Blackwall knew.

He finished the pour and returned to the bed, smiling when Dorian’s eye peaked open and ran along Blackwall’s form.

“Here,” he offers the glass, almost regretting it when Dorian had to adjust and sit up.

“Hydrating, what a splendid idea,” Dorian takes the offering and drinks. Blackwall sits next to Dorian and waits until he lowers the glass. Dorian smirks a devilish way and hands the glass back to Blackwall who deposits it ontontje ground. “One does have to keep their strength up.”

He trails ringed fingers along Blackwall’s arm.

“Ha,” Blackwall huffs amusedly and leans closer. “Especially if they’re trying to keep up with you.”

“Oh,” Dorian stretches, putting his body on display. Blackwall doesn’t hide his gaze. “Is that a request for mercy?”

Blackwall growls low, his eyes darken, and Dorian almost purrs in response. “Not so easily, pretty peacock.”

Dorian laughs. “What a term of endearment. I almo–”

Blackwall kisses away his words. Dorian softens underneath him as Blackwall lowers them back to the bed.


	3. 3

Blackwall was drunk. He couldn’t remember how he had let himself drink so much. He wasnt a push over when it came to drink and yet here he found himself unsteadily leaning back on his arms and laughing too loudly at his companion. The supplier of the booze.

Dorian sat next to Blackwall in the grass and dirt. The camp fire and alcohol more than enough heat for the evening. The mage toed off his own boots with a lot of shifting and cursing, uncaring if his troubles kept the rest of camp from sleeping Until finally the second foot was pulled from its leather prison.

Dorian fell backward with the force of it and his head landed in Blackwall’s lap. Dorian laughed and it made Blackwall laugh although he didn’t understand the humor.

“I apologize for my clumsiness,” Dorian said, making no move to pick himself up.

Blackwall felt a stilling warmth in him when Dorian reached a hand to his shoulder and smiled up at him. It was lopsided and sweet. Blackwall felt his stomach do a loop. It was dizzying. So, instead of saying anything he did the only thing that made sense. He put a hand to Dorian’s head and ran his fingers through that dark hair.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” Dorian’s voice purred. He closed his eyes at the continued touch. Blackwall watched Dorian’s face for a couple minutes before he leaned back himself to stare at the sky, fingers still massaging Dorian’s scalp.

Quiet and content, they remained until Blackwall eventually had to free himself to take a piss. Which got him a string of disappointed noises and comments. He almost figured it was worth the discomfort to stay there with Dorian but his bladder won out.

Upon his lumbering return, Blackwall found that Dorian was gone. Returned to his tent for sleep most like. Blackwall felt a mix of confusion and disappointment. But not enough to linger on it. He was in no state to figure it out.

Sitting himself down by the fire again, propped against a log, Blackwall drifted to sleep, a soft chuckle in his throat and a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Blackwall rubbed his temple, dark ink stained on his fingers smudged across his skin there. He grumbled as he realized and put his hand back down on the table and concentrated on the message he was attempting to write with little success. 

Words were never his strength and trying to find them now was a task he was having trouble bearing. The weight of it settled hard in his chest as he read it over.

_~~My Love~~ _

_~~My Heart~~ _

_~~My~~ _

_Dorian_

_I apologise that I am too much of a coward to say these words to your face. I love you. But every man has a past and mine is not a past I can ignore any longer. I must face it. I’m sorry. I never deserved you. This is for the best._

Blackwall clicked his tongue at his poor penmanship and how inadequate this note was. He roughly scratched through the entire thing, his pen dragged across and ripped through the paper. 

He cringed at the noise and looked over his shoulder, to the bed where Dorian slept. The light from the small candle didn’t reach so far and it was hard to see but it appeared the man was undisturbed. 

Blackwall then glanced to the window. The sun would be beginning to rise soon. There was no more time to dally with trying to ease his own guilt. Blackwall held the torn paper to the hot flame and watched it burn between his fingers until it was nothing but ash and his fingers slightly singed. 

He grabbed the small pack he had set beside him then blew the candle out. As he slung the pack over his shoulder he stopped as he passed the large bed that Dorian was so good at stretching out in and spared one last look. Dorian was cocooned in the warm blankets, only his head visible, he was always complaining of the cold. Blackwall smiled sadly that he’d never again scoop Dorian up into his arms and have Dorian relax into the heat of his body. 

The memories made Blackwall’s eyes sting and he turned away. Who was he fooling? He didn’t deserve those memories. He had greedily stolen them because he could and Dorian was going to pay the price for his selfishness. Another thing, for the rest of his short life, that Blackwall wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for. 

Trying to be a better man. Blackwall snorted harshly at himself. 

He walked out the door without another glance back. That was a dream, behind him. A what could have been if he had been that better man. Reality was ahead of him.


	5. 5

Dorian is sitting alone in the inquisiton tavern, a bit sullen. Blackwall sits himself down beside Dorian, getting a sideways glower for it. 

“Buy you a drink?” Blackwall asks. "You look like you could use one. Or two.“

Blackwall waves for the bartender as Dorian straightens his back. "And be seen drinking that Ferelden swill with you?” His face scrunches in distaste. 

Laughing, Blackwalls replies, “That was the idea. Unsettling an idea as it is. You want one or not?”

Dorian frowns and gives Blackwall a long assessing look. His usual impatience for Dorian was not showing in his smirk. Dorian slides his hand across the wood of the counter to have something else to look at and he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“Okay. A drink then. This would be a fine end to this unfathomably abysmal day.”

Blackwall holds up two fingers and the barkeep grabs two mugs. "I’m flattered.“

There’s a hesitation before Dorian apologizes. "That was uncalled for.” A foam topped mug is placed in front of him and then Blackwall. Dorian puts his fingers lightly to the drink. "Thank you. What I meant to say was “thank you”.“

Not wasting time, Blackwall puts the drink to his lips. He takes a quick gulp, leaving some of the foam across the upper lip of his beard as he says, "Now I’ve seen everything.” He wipes his wrist across his mouth, clearing the foam away. “Must have been some day.”

Dorian shrugs his shoulders to avoid the opening to talk. He smiles at his beer, feeling Blackwall’s dark eyes on him. “Nothing worth the mention.”

“Ha,” Blackwall leans his arm against the table to face Dorian more directly. "I know days like those. Hard ones to get through.“

Dorian blinks then catches Blackwall’s gaze. It was there in those eyes. An understanding of everything Dorian had clamped up in that moment. The indescribable loneliness. 

He takes a drink of his beer and licks his lips. Blackwall notices his lack of reaction to the taste and chuckles. Dorian takes his mug and taps Blackwall’s with it. 

"Thank you.”

Blackwall smiles and they both take another swig.


	6. 6

“Are you finished yet?” Blackwall asks, turning to look over his shoulder and his voice taking on a level of impatience. Fact of the matter he’s been impatient through the entire process. 

Dorian drops a hand from Blackwall’s hair to his shoulder. "Now, Now, the more you interrupt the longer this will take. Besides, you will thank me when I am finished. 

“Doubt that,” Blackwall scoffs.

A tug on Blackwall’s hair subdues him. As does the kiss to his temple. The brush pulls through Blackwall’s hair, no longer snagging on knots and pieces of foliage that had gotten caught in their last battle. A few more strokes and Dorian holds his hands up and proudly smiles at his handiwork. 

Blackwall looks in the mirror, his dark hair smooth and shining in the candlelight. "I don’t see why its worth the bother.“

Dorian leans against Blackwall from behind, wrapping one arm around the warrior and the other hand strokes through his newly brushed hair. "I will show you why its worth the bother.”

Dorian turns Blackwall’s face until he can press their lips together in a soft kiss.

“See now?”

“I’m starting to understand.”

“Finally,” Dorian sighs dramatically. "Progress.“

"Well, I am a stubborn fool, it might take a while longer. But until then,” Blackwall turns his body and presses his lips to Dorian’s. He brings Dorian down to the bed with him, wrapping his arms tight around the mage. They press into each other and by the time they’ve finished Blackwall’s hair is a sweaty tangled mess once again, to Dorian’s chagrin.


End file.
